Chapter Twenty-Six #2
“Valerio’s been on administrative leave since the Mancusi shooting,” Maurizio told them. “That means nobody’s very worried about him being out of comms. I talked to my boss this morning, and played him the voicemail. He isn’t convinced it means anything.”
“Valerio’s in danger,” Orlanda insisted. Her voice was tight and unsteady. “He certainly thinks the kids are. Why else would he tell Giorgia to leave town?”
Nikki weighed in with what Valerio had told her about Silvestri and Errichiello, and showed the photograph of Yasen Lazarov, the Bulgarian Ghost. She felt guilty repeating this. Valerio must have had his reasons for telling her and not his partner or sister. She hoped he would forgive her.
“Valerio told me about surveilling Silvestri,” Maurizio said. “I looked into him, but he’s clean. And I searched the pictures Valerio took, including this image of—this Ghost—but I couldn’t get a hit. Now that I have a name—Yasen Lazarov—I’ll see what we have on him.”
Orlanda, who had been pinching her fingers, leaned forward and grabbed Maurizio’s arm.
“Can’t you get a warrant for this guy—Silvestri?” she asked.
Maurizio shook his head. “There’s not really enough to convince a magistrate, even if I can confirm the identity of this Ghost. Valerio didn’t tell me what he was doing, and he hasn’t been missing long enough to get anyone here worried.
I’ll get some local cops over to the property, knock on the door, see if there’s anything I can put on the warrant.
If I’m successful—and that’s a big if—it would be at least twenty-four hours before we could get inside. ”
Nikki’s stomach turned. She looked at her watch: 17:31. Eleven hours since Valerio’s voicemail. A lifetime, if he was in trouble.
“Did Valerio tell you anything?” she asked Orlanda. “Anything Maurizio can use to get a warrant?”
“No!” Orlanda started crying. The emotion seemed to make her angry and she pressed her palms to her eyes. “He’s such an idiot. He doesn’t tell me anything. What if I go to Silvestri’s house? What if I bang on the door and make him let me in?”
Maurizio said gently, “That could put you in harm’s way. Valerio wouldn’t want that.”
She shoved the tears back. Her eyes narrowed.
“There was a man,” she said. “He came looking for Valerio at Mamma’s house, the morning after that woman was killed in the church. Could he have anything to do with this?”
“Did he give a name?” Nikki asked.
“Federico…yes. That was it. Federico.”
Maurizio seemed to think. “Tall skinny guy? Old? Glasses?”
She nodded.
Maurizio exhaled. “I may know who he is: an old addict Valerio helped a long time ago. I’ve met him a few times. He owns a shop not far from here.”
He turned to Nikki. “I’ll text you Federico’s address. You start there. I’ll head back in the office and see what I can do. It’s the end of the day, and Valerio gave me a big fat nothing to go on, but I’ll see whether I can get a magistrate to issue a warrant.”
—
“Is there someplace you can go?” Nikki asked Orlanda after Maurizio left. “If Valerio was worried about Giorgia and the kids, you may also be at risk. You should take your mother someplace.”
Orlanda glanced around, as if the threat was lurking around the corner.
“I’m not sure where we could go,” she said.
Nikki dug in her bag, and pulled out her house key.
“Take her to my place until we find Valerio. I’ll call you when I know anything.”
—
Nikki wove her Hornet in and out of traffic, moving rapidly through the crowded streets. Her mind was with Valerio, wherever he was. He was a competent and highly trained capo. She told herself he was just fine. So, what was this bad feeling that kept climbing up her throat?
He’d come to her yesterday, asked for her help.
There was no precedent for this. Valerio had never asked her for anything.
She should have offered more—agreed to whatever he needed.
Not long ago, as Nikki fought for her life in a cave by Lago d’Averno, Valerio had defied reason, defied odds, and found her.
If he’d waited…hesitated…she would be dead.
—
The address Maurizio gave for Federico was in Forcella. It was a difficult neighborhood, and Nikki always removed her helmet when she rode through, for fear of being misidentified and shot.
The tiny salumeria was filled with rush-hour shoppers.
The proprietor was busy. Old and slightly hunched, with thinning grey hair, papery skin, and thick glasses, the man was impossibly thin.
His large bony fingers worked the meat slicer, weighing prosciutto on the scales.
Nikki tried to flag his attention, but in the thick crowd, everybody making their order, she had to take a number and wait her turn.
“Are you Federico?” she asked when she reached the counter.
The slight tilt of his head could have been a nod. “What can I get you?”
“I’m looking for Valerio Alfieri.”
He grunted and glanced over her shoulder to the chaotic queue behind her.
“You need to place an order, signora.”
“My name is Nikki. I’m his friend. He’s been missing since this morning.”
He coughed and spoke in a loud voice. “Allora. Sì. Pancetta…what quantity?”
His eyes, huge behind his glasses, were bright and staring. She understood.
“Enough for pasta tonight,” she said.
He nodded, then sliced and weighed the meat, typed and printed a sticker, wrapped and taped the bundle, and dropped it in a sack.
“Next!”
Nikki paid for the meat at the cash register, then walked out of the shop. Two blocks away, she stepped into a doorway and examined the package. Next to the weight of the meat, 213g, Federico had typed, Basilica. Venti minuti.
—
The church closest to Federico’s salumeria was the Basilica della Santissima Annunziata Maggiore.
The large Baroque structure was badly deteriorated, and had been shuttered when the Camorra ruled this district.
A few years ago, the city had made an effort to clean up this neighborhood.
Syringes no longer littered the sidewalk, but you could still buy contraband from street dealers.
The church, which had been used as a dumping ground for decades, was cleared out, and its doors opened to the impoverished community it served.
Not wanting to attract attention by loitering, Nikki strode through the church gates and up the stairs into the dreary interior.
It was empty. Alone in the fading light, she walked halfway up the nave, breathing in the musty odor. Taking a seat in a wooden pew, she glared at the crucifix. Never one for religion, she nonetheless felt irrational anger towards the figure on the cross.
“Don’t let him be dead,” she said.
—
Federico stole silently into the church, the thick soles of his trainers making no sound. Crossing himself, he took bowlegged strides towards Nikki, and slid into the pew beside her. He smelled of meat and cigarettes and bleach.
“You’re Nikki,” he said in a low voice. “Valerio talks about you.”
“Do you know where he is?” Nikki asked.
He nodded. “He went to Paride Silvestri’s house, looking for evidence against my brother.”
“Why? Who’s your brother?”
He stared. “You don’t know?”
“No.”
“My brother is Luca Errichiello.”
Nikki understood now.
“I need you to talk to Valerio’s partner, Maurizio,” she said. “He’s trying to get a search warrant—the police need to get into Silvestri’s place and get Valerio out.”
Federico shook his head. “It’s too late. He won’t be there anymore. Silvestri’s not the one to handle it. If Valerio’s still alive, they’ve taken him to Luca.”
“Then tell the police!” Nikki exclaimed.
“I’m out,” he said. “I promised myself I’d never go back…never get involved again.”
“At least tell Maurizio.”
He looked thoughtful.
“How much do you trust Maurizio?” he asked.
“I trust him…fine,” Nikki said. “He’s a good man.”
Federico sighed. “The police will do nothing. Even if this Maurizio is a good man, as you say, there will be problems. This person says to wait…that person says there is not enough evidence…and so it goes. Believe me, the police will never come to Luca Errichiello’s door.
They say that my brother is a human trafficker, but this is not the point of what he does. ”
“Then what’s the point?”
“The secrets, of course. Luca deals in secrets. If you own a man’s secret, you own the man.”
Nikki considered. “Then what do we do?”
“There’s nothing to be done,” he said. “Valerio knew the risk. I warned him. He understands the wolves he’s hunting, and he did it anyway.”
Nikki thought about Valerio, the relaxed kindness of his company.
She’d become so accustomed to having him close, to easy conversations, to lazy, sun-drenched days together on Calypso, and the backbreaking work they did to keep their boat running.
This new thought, the idea that Valerio might not be in the world, was like coming suddenly to the edge of a chasm. She simply couldn’t tolerate it.
“I need to call Maurizio,” she said. “Can you wait?”
He nodded.
—
Federico was right. She knew it before she even dialed Maurizio’s number.
She stood on the steps of the church, phone pressed to her ear as she explained what Federico had told her.
“I’m trying, but I keep hitting walls,” said Maurizio. “I can’t get anyone interested in doing their fucking job.”
“But Federico confirms that Valerio was going to Silvestri’s house this morning,” Nikki pressed. “We know that’s where he was.”
“I understand,” said Maurizio. “But it doesn’t do us any good if I can’t get someone to sign a warrant to search the property.”
“What if Federico’s right and they’ve moved him to Errichiello’s place?” Nikki said.
“Fuck,” said Maurizio. “If he’s alive, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
—
Nikki’s mind churned as she walked back into the church. She couldn’t give up. Valerio would never give up on her. If he hadn’t come looking for her that night…well, things would have been different.
Federico was sitting where she’d left him, posture rigid, staring ahead towards the altar.
“They won’t help, will they?” he said.
She shook her head.
“Nobody likes to hunt wolves,” he said with a sigh.
Nikki’s heart was racing. There was a sick taste in her mouth. She looked down and realized she was still gripping the package of pancetta.
“What about another wolf?”